


Finding Elizabeth

by HeartIconography



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-20 19:29:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13724448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartIconography/pseuds/HeartIconography
Summary: "I don't do this," he said haltingly. "I mean, this isn't what I'm here for. I've been looking for you."Betty's spine snapped straight and she felt her heart begin to race. Was this guy some sort of nut job? Dangerous? Now she looked at him, eyes trained on his face, trying to place him. Think, think. Have I seen him anywhere? The laundromat? The complex? The 24 hour drug store down the block?"Sorry!" the boy said, seeing the panic she had barely let slip on her face. "That sounded terrible. I have a friend who has a friend who has a girlfriend -- God, I sound crazy -- and she's been looking for her sister. She was given up for adoption."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot, but... alas, here I am, writing another multi-chapter fic. I couldn't get the idea of Betty as Chic out of my head.

The room was rank, but for only 200 dollars a month, Betty couldn't scoff at it. The carpet had what looked to be a blood stain in the right corner, so she had pushed the wobbly table over it, which had almost solved the problem. Still, the rusted coppery brown still unfurled from under the wood slightly, like a flower in full bloom. Walking in, she dropped her rucksack on the lumpy bed and sunk down next to it, rolling the tension in her shoulders out the best she could. Taking everything you owned with you everywhere got tiring, but it was better than being robbed again.

Betty tugged the faded yellow curtains shut, though there was a sliver of space that always remained. Outside, the orange glow of the streetlight caught and reflected off the mirror. She moved to the side, out of view, and began removing her clothes, digging the black bra and tight leather skirt out of her bag. She slithered into it, glad she had bought it small all those months ago, because it was starting to hang around her hipbones. She pinned her blonde hair up and secured the wig, sighing at the itch that immediately crept over her scalp.

After setting her laptop up, Betty cinched her choker and put on her red lipstick -- checking her reflection, she decided her eye makeup would do, though the dark of her eyeliner was more smudged than usual. She typed in the familiar website and powered her webcam on, setting her face to stone, and waited. The deluge of messages in the chat room was nothing new. She tapped her black fingernails against the table, giving nothing away. Betty had rules, the first being, no public shows. Women were in demand, and because of that, she got to be a little choosy. Sure, she could've made more money taking her clothes off for everyone, but she got by just fine person by person -- creating connections and turning them into repeat customers. It was smarter this way. And safer. At least that's what she told herself.

 **DarkB:** _Private show. 300 dollars. The first to message me gets the honor, and be warned, I'm feeling mean tonight. PMs will be open in five minutes._

She stood up, turned on some music and danced. Slow, winding her hips to the beat. _Entice them,_ she ordered herself. Betty pulled the skirt up, just shy of exposing her ass, fingers trailing up her thighs. If she hooked someone tonight, she'd have rent covered for the month and almost an extra hundred dollars for food, or buying a better webcam, or whatever she wanted, really. When the timer went off, she sat back down, allowing the PMs to flood in. Betty clicked into the first one, noticing it was a new customer, and smirked into the camera -- wanting him to feel as though she could see him already.

**JJ:** _I want the private show. I have the cash right now, just say the word._

**DarkB:**   _I'm waiting._

After a moment, the funds were transferred into her account. Even with the fee the site took, it was still a noticeable chunk of change. _Don't smile,_ she told herself. After logging off the main page, to the disappointment of many, she set up the private chat and invited him to join. It didn't take long. She tilted her head, waiting for his cam to turn on, but nothing came. 

"Turn on the cam, JJ," she said, letting him hear her voice, steady with control.

 **JJ:** _It's not like that. I just have a few questions._

"I wasn't asking. Turn on your cam or I disconnect."

Suddenly, a picture of a boy her own age came into focus. Dark hair, blue eyes, full lips. _Cute,_ she thought, and then just as quickly, _too bad_. She played with her bra strap, seeing if he would say anything, but nothing came. Instead he watched her, eyes trained on her face, as if he was trying to place her.

"The quiet type, huh?" she asked. "It's okay, you may speak."

"I don't do this," he said haltingly. "I mean, this isn't what I'm here for. I've been looking for you."

Betty's spine snapped straight and she felt her heart begin to race. Was this guy some sort of nut job? Dangerous? Now she looked at him, eyes trained on his face, trying to place him. _Think, think. Have I seen him anywhere? The laundromat? The complex? The 24 hour drug store down the block?_

"Sorry!" JJ said, seeing the panic she had barely let slip on her face. "That sounded terrible. I have a friend who has a friend who has a girlfriend -- God, I sound crazy -- and she's been looking for her sister. She was given up for adoption."

Betty felt dizzy all of a sudden. She knew about her birth family. She had even went to their house once, having done her own digging, and willed herself to ring the doorbell. Instead she had stood on the sidewalk, fingernails digging into her palms so hard they drew blood. After that day, she had given her foster home the slip -- it hadn't been hard, and soon she'd be eighteen. But now... someone was looking for her. _Her sister._ The blonde girl she had seen through the window, laughing, completely unscathed.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, nor do I care to. Most likely you're just some psycho who gets off on very detailed roleplay, but I'm not into it. I don't have a sister, alright?"

"But --"

"I don't have a sister!" she lied. "You've got the wrong girl. Request your money back from the site -- I'll approve it."

"I don't want --"

"I'm disconnecting now. Please don't bother me again."

She cut the connection in the middle of him opening his mouth to protest. Betty couldn't listen to it anymore. She slammed the laptop shut, thinking she would deal with it later. Suddenly. she felt like crying. Betty didn't think about her family much -- not since that day she had stood in front of their house -- but she used to. More specifically she used to wonder: _Why me?_ They were only a year apart, her and the other girl, and Betty was younger. _Why keep one but not the other? Why not just get rid of me?_  

And now, lowering herself onto the single bed with shaky legs, her comforter burned by cigarette butts or worse, she thought (not for the first time -- not even close): _I wish she had just gotten rid of me._  
  
~  
  
"Fuck!"

Jughead slammed his fist into the table, making his glass of water jump, liquid sloshing over the top. _That was her. I know it._ It wasn't just the pictures in the folder, of a young blonde girl with haunted green eyes, but he had _seen_ her. Jughead had been staying at Archie's and from the kitchen window, he had watched a girl standing in the sidewalk, staring at the Cooper's house with her hands knotted into fists. She never went to the door -- just stood there, still as a statue.

He hadn't thought about it in years.

Archie came to him a few weeks ago, asking for a favor. Jason Blossom's girlfriend Polly was looking for her younger sister, who had been given up for adoption. Jughead tried not to show any outward reaction to the news. It's not like his family was The Brady Bunch after all, but still, it was shocking. Jason was willing to hook Archie up with some contacts in the music world, if he could help him locate the girl: _Elizabeth_. Of course, Jason knew Archie would be less than useless, but with Archie came Jughead -- and this stuff was kind of his wheelhouse. How could he say no?

It was a twisted path that led him to where he was tonight. The file hadn't been too hard to get. Jughead knew people in the Social Services realm. Unfortunately, Elizabeth seemed to be non-existent -- no Facebook, no Twitter, no anything. She had slipped the system at sixteen, and he couldn't find anything that connected her to this town -- let alone this world. It was Tall Boy who had helped him -- and the thought left a bitter, sick taste in his mouth.

"I know her," Tall Boy had said from over his shoulder.

Jughead was at the bar of the Whyte Wyrm, flipping through her file for the hundredth time. He was waiting on his father, who was in the back, doing God knows what. Jughead didn't want to think about it. He spun around on his stool to face the older man.

"You know this girl?" Jughead asked, holding up the piece of paper with her picture on it.

"Pretty sure that's her. She's one of them online girls."

"What do you mean?" Jughead asked, hoping like hell it wasn't as bad as it sounded.

"You know what I mean. Those cam girls. Making cash without actually having to touch anyone. Pretty sure that's her, but she wears this black wig -- does the whole domme get-up."

"You know she's seventeen?" Jughead asked, getting up, trying so hard not to swing at the older man his knuckles cracked when he fisted them.

"Sure as shit did not," Tall Boy laughed. "You looking for her?"

"What gave it away?"

"Give me the paper. I'll write the site down for you, but those girls, they aren't keen on giving away their information," he said with a shrug.

"I wonder why," he snarled, pushing a paper towards Tall Boy.

And now, he was sat in the trailer, squeezing his eyes shut tight. This girl needed help -- she was only seventeen, God, and who knew how long she had been doing this for? She would've had to make money some how after running away. The swiftness of his protective feelings shocked him -- he tried to tell himself it was because he had a sister, but he knew that wasn't right, because when she danced... when she _looked_ at him...

Jughead shook his head. _Don't go there._ Taking a deep breath, he opened his laptop back up and began researching. _You'll find her,_ he told himself. _And then she'll have Polly, at least. She won't be alone anymore._


	2. Chapter 2

He never requested his money back. Betty stared at the sum just sitting there, waiting to be transferred into her account, and wondered what to do with it. She hadn't been online in a week -- too afraid of whether or not he would be there, ready to stir up more shit she wasn't ready to deal with. Betty knew the money couldn't be traced to her; it would hardly be a safe profession if it could -- but something still wouldn't let her accept it.   
  
_Maybe the fact that it came from her sister._

She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and clicked into the chat room. _I need to make some money,_ she told herself, but her finger hovered above the "live" button. Already, users had begun logging in. She scrolled through the names, looking for JJ, but he wasn't there. Betty tugged at her wig and forced herself to press down on the mouse. Suddenly her own image popped up before her, almost startling her. She had dark bags under her eyes that her dollar store concealer hadn't been able to cover. Betty read the messages and then looked into her cam, green eyes desperate to come off as in charge.

"I know I haven't been on in a while. Everything's alright -- you're all so sweet for worrying. Sometimes life gets in the way, but I'm ready to take out all of my stress on some lucky boy tonight. No price limit this time, just send me your best offers. I feel like I need this as much as you do tonight."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Betty didn't love her work, and God knows she definitely didn't get off on it. However, the control was intoxicating; it was something she had so little of growing up. She would hurt herself, sometimes, just to feel like she was in charge of her own body -- breaking skin, too hot showers, counting calories. But this was better. It didn't leave a mark... at least not anywhere anyone could see it. And, in a weird way, she felt like she was helping people. Often desperate people, a lot like herself.

As was custom, she set a timer and began to dance. Betty had always loved dancing -- giving yourself over to the music and letting it take you away, somewhere else, somewhere better. Because what wouldn't be better than being here, where she was? In the next room, she could hear two men arguing through the wall. Likely a drug deal gone sour. A thump against her wall. Then another. Then silence. She was used to it. Betty didn't even flinch.

She chatted mindlessly with the users online as she sifted through the offers. The highest bid was for five hundred, which was almost unheard of considering what she offered. Betty eyed the username curiously and the profile -- which had mostly been left blank. Somewhere, deep in the pit of her stomach, she knew it was him. _But what if it isn't?_ she asked herself. _What if it's just some lonely old man with too much money?_ She hated feeling desperate, but she needed the cash. She had bills to pay. She had to eat. And more importantly, she had to _live_.

 **DarkB:** _Once you deposit the cash into my account, we can begin..._

 **Serpent3:** _Done._

"Okay, guys. The winner has been chosen, but do not fret, I'll be around a lot more often in the coming days and I can't wait to see you all again soon."

She logged out and created a private chat with Serpent3. Again, she found herself waiting for the user to turn their webcam on. This wasn't too unusual, as the men that frequented these sites weren't usually the best looking. Betty leveled her gaze and cocked her head, saying nothing at all. Suddenly the picture flickered on, and she swore softly to herself.

"You never requested your money back," she bit out, letting her nails bite into her palms underneath the table.

"Please, don't disconnect this time!" he rushed to plead.

"JJ, is it?" she asked.

"Jughead, actually."

"Alright then -- that seems like a step in the wrong direction towards an actual name, but fine -- _Jughead_. I don't want the cash. I don't care where it came from. And I'm not the girl that you're looking for."

The boy reached up and adjusted the crown shaped beanie on his head, sighing in frustration. Through the grainy quality of his cam, she could make out the moles on his face -- the sharp line of his jaw. He was wearing a faded gray t-shirt with a large S on the front. Was it for the Serpents, she wondered, given his username. She knew enough of the gang, living where she did.

"I know it's you Elizabeth. I've read your file -- I have your pictures! I'm not stupid, alright?" he reached down, holding up her own picture to stare back at her.

"That's not me."

"So if you took off that wig you're wearing, you wouldn't have blonde hair, then?" Jughead asked her.

"I'm not indulging you in this weird fantasy you have going on. I feel bad for the girl you're helping. It's a sad situation, to see a family broken up. But if that girl has been in the system for any extended amount of time, the family probably won't want her back."

"What is that supposed to mean?" the boy asked, sitting up straight, pulling his laptop towards himself.

"It means exactly what it means in any bad Lifetime movie. That girl -- given your folder -- was placed in foster care, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Then they're _not_ going to want her back, okay? Kids don't run away from good lives," Betty ground out, trying to drain all emotion from her voice. "That girl is probably all sorts of messed up. And considering you think she'd end up where I am, then... maybe you should tell her sister to stop looking."

"What happened to you?" he asked her, voice soft -- comforting, almost, if she would have allowed herself to be comforted.

"Please request the money back and _please_ stop bothering me. I can't accept the cash, given the situation. It's not right. And I need to make a living. I have to pay rent. Do you get it?"

"I'm sorry," Jughead told her. "I'm not requesting the cash back. It's not mine to begin with, and Polly would want you to have it."

"It's just going to sit there then."

"Then let it sit. But if you need it, you should use it," he told her.

"Are you going to stop bothering me now?"

"No," he told her. "I'm not going to stop helping Polly find her sister. And since that's you, I can't exactly promise to leave you alone."

_"It's not me!"_

"Then take the wig off."

"Just leave me alone, alright?" she asked, suddenly exhausted.

"I'll stop ruining your shows," Jughead relented, though it looked like it hurt him to do so. "It's your source of income, and I don't want you to end up on the streets."

"Thank you," she said, relief clear in her voice.

"Just take my number. If you change your mind about wanting to meet Polly -- or you need help, with anything. Will you do that for me?"

"Fine," she said.

After writing down his number, she disconnected the chat. True to his word, he didn't request the money back -- and true to her word, she wouldn't spend a cent of it. Still, Jughead's number stared back at her. Betty opened google and typed it into the search bar. He wasn't the only one who could do some digging, after all. She needed to know who she was up against -- if luck was on her side, he would be just another teenage boy. And if not, well, she had disappeared once.

She could do it again. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Jughead hadn't said anything concrete to Polly yet -- only that he had been following leads, and he felt like he was getting closer. Her smile glowed, and he tried to imagine Elizabeth smiling in the same way, but he couldn't. Part of him wondered if she ever had. After school, he would spread out all the papers he had on her and, more often than not, found himself staring at her picture with a gnawing pain in his stomach. _Why won't she just let me help her?_

On the floor in the living room of the trailer, cold Chinese food forgotten, his eyes scanned the list of foster homes. He wondered why no one would've wanted to adopt a sweet, blonde haired little girl. She must've been the stuff of Norman Rockwell paintings. Of course, there were forms missing from her folder -- stuff that might've filled in the blanks -- but beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd been more than lucky to even get what he had, but it still wasn't enough. Jughead rubbed his temples, feeling a tension headache starting to set in. Suddenly the door of the trailer swung open, followed by a gust of cool evening air.

"Dad," he said, "what're you doing home?"

"Cops showed up at the bar with a search warrant -- and before you ask, there's nothing to find. But it's certainly freed up my evening."

"Really? There's nothing to be worried about?" Jughead stood, looking his father in the eyes.

"Scouts honor."

"That literally means nothing, but fine, I'm not in the mood to argue anyway. Just let me clean everything up. I didn't think you'd be back for a while."

FP flopped onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair. Jughead quickly cleared the Chinese food containers and his paper plate from the table, balancing his empty cup on top of it. When he came back into the living room, his father was leaning forward, the sheet of paper with Elizabeth's photograph in his hands. He looked as if he had seen a ghost.

"What the hell is this?"

"I'm helping a friend find someone," Jughead stated easily, gathering the papers on the table up.

"This is Alice Cooper's girl?" his father demanded, and Jughead couldn't tell if it was anger or bitterness he heard in his voice.

"Yeah. Who knew, huh?"

"Alice ask you to look for her?"

"No. Like I said, I'm helping a friend, and I doubt Alice Cooper has any friends," Jughead snorted. When his father fixed him with an impatient look, Jughead continued. "Polly is looking for her sister. Polly is dating Jason. Jason asked Archie to help him, knowing I would help Archie, and here we are."

"And?"

"And, nothing. I found her -- _online_ \-- but she didn't exactly want to be found. Keeps insisting I have the wrong girl, even though I know I don't. And given her situation, it's just kind of..."

"What?" FP asked, finally letting go of the sheet of paper, dropping it back onto the table.

"It's just kind of depressing."

"What's her situation?"

"I shudder even asking you this, but do you know what cam girls are?" Jughead asked.

"I get the jist," FP said, saving his son from an awkward conversation. Then softer than he had heard his dad's voice go in a long time, he added, "That doesn't sound safe."

"I know, she's my age, dad, and she's on her own," Jughead sat down next to his father. "I just don't know what to do. She doesn't want my help."

"Do you know where she is?" FP asked.

"No."

"Have you checked the Plaza?"

"Not yet. Why do you think she'd be _there_?"

The Plaza had a bad reputation -- one which had been earned fairly. Drug deals, prostitutes, even a dead body or two. Technically it was a hotel, but people often stayed there for months at a time. The ugly brown building was just over the border of Riverdale, and Jughead knew the Serpents, Ghoulies, and even worse, frequented there.

"Because they won't check how old she is, as long as she pays in cash," his father answered. "If I was a teenage runaway, that's where I'd go. At least for a while."

His father was right. Jughead didn't know why he hadn't thought of it himself, but now that the possibility had been put out there, it seemed obvious. He grabbed the pen and wrote "Plaza" next to where Tall Boy had scrawled the website address for him. Jughead tried to ignore the lurch of his stomach at the thought of Elizabeth there, but it was impossible.

"I'll check it out."

"Not without me," FP said.

"Dad, come on," Jughead rolled his eyes.

"Listen, the Plaza is no joke. You know the type who run there -- they'll know who you are. It's not safe to go alone."

While Jughead believed him, he didn't miss how his father's eyes lingered on the picture of the Cooper girl. Something about this was getting under FP's skin, and Jughead didn't know why. Part of him wanted to ask, but he knew his father wouldn't answer, so he kept his mouth shut. For now, at least.

"Fine. Is tomorrow after school going to work for you?" Jughead asked. "Cause that's when _I'm_ going."

"I'll pick you up. Besides, they'll be more likely to talk to you if I'm there."

Jughead nodded. His father wasn't particularly muscular, but he was dangerous. There was a mean glint he got in his eye -- though Jughead had never seen it directed at himself -- that made his stomach sink into his knees regardless. Having his father next to him wasn't exactly how he pictured this whole thing going down, but maybe it was for the best. FP said nothing else, turning to pat his son on the shoulder, and then retiring to his bedroom. Jughead picked up the picture again and looked into Elizabeth's green eyes, as if waiting for them to give something away. Some clue. Some hint. Some _something_.

"Where are you?" Jughead asked the picture, not for the first time, but Elizabeth just kept staring into the camera lens, straight through him, keeping all her secrets.


	4. Chapter 4

Betty wasn't sure how she had ended up in this situation. Sure, she had been playing music, but it hadn't been that loud. Then again, tweakers weren't exactly known for being reasonable. When her neighbor knocked on her door, she only opened it a crack, letting the chain lock separate them. She almost flinched at his appearance -- the greasy hair, bloodshot eyes, and truly messed up teeth -- it wasn't pretty. Although, what in her life had been pretty?

"Turn that fucking crap off," he snarled at her.

"I'm sorry," she responded. "It's not that loud. I didn't think you'd even be able to hear it."

"Well, it _is_ and I _can!"_

"Again, I'm sorry. I'll turn it down," she placated.

His hand shot through the small space in the door, skinning his flesh like one would peel a potato, and grabbed the front of her shirt. _Fuck!_ Betty thought, her heart rate immediately racing. She tugged and tugged but the man wouldn't let go of her shirt. She was now pulled up against the wall, able to smell his rank breath.

"I didn't say turn it down, bitch. I said turn it off!"

"O-okay. I'll turn it off. I'm sorry," she rushed to agree.

Suddenly the hand withdrew, leaving blood on the door frame and her shirt, which had seen better days to begin with. After flipping the two other locks back into place, Betty immediately went and turned off her music. He was being crazy. She knew he wasn't new to the complex. He had been next door to her for a while now, and she wasn't playing her music any louder than she had originally. Still, best not to antagonize crazy people.  

Betty sat on the edge of the bed, noticing her hands were shaking with a sense of detachment she was long familiar with. She blinked, and then blinked again. Curling her fingers inward, Betty let them break skin, and suddenly everything snapped back into focus with a vicious clarity. _You're okay,_ she told herself. _You're okay._

She wasn't sure how much time passed when she heard someone else knocking at her door. It was gentler than before, but she was still wary of opening it. Shuffling forward as quietly as possible, she pressed her eye to the peephole and drew in a sharp breath. It was Jughead and an older man, who, if looks were anything to go by, was of some relation to the younger boy. Jughead looked directly into the peephole, and Betty fought the urge to duck. They knocked again.

"Are you fucking kidding me today?" her neighbor shouted as he swung open his door. He shoved past the pair and began banging on her door again. "What is with this bitch? Hey blondie! Open your fucking door! I _know_ you're home!"

"Excuse me," Jughead said. "This has literally nothing to do with you."

"You know this girl?" the older man asked while stepping in front of the boy.

"I almost had to smack her in the face today. Playing some shitty music way too loud."

 _"You don't touch her,"_ Jughead ground out.

"Okay, junior," her neighbor replied, clearly not impressed.

"You heard him," the older man said, crossing his arms and bringing attention to his Serpents jacket. "She's under our protection. You ever so much as touch her, you'll lose your hand. Got it?"

She watched him nod, a move that looked exaggerated through the fish-eye of the peephole. Betty finally felt like she could breathe again when her neighbor went back into his apartment. Jughead knocked again, and then again. She held her breath, trying to make as little noise as possible. Suddenly, the older man's face was staring right into her own.

"Elizabeth? Just open up. We know you're there. We just want to talk," he said. "No trouble."

Betty wasn't sure what made her do it, but she unlocked the door, leaving the chain on, and opened it again. Maybe it was the tone of his voice -- unlike Jughead's, that made her think if she didn't want to go, he wouldn't try to convince her. The older man blinked. He looked surprised.

"Can I help you?" Betty asked in a voice she forced to be calm.

"I'm FP. You already know my son, Jughead," FP said, hooking a thumb towards the boy who was staring at her intently. "I don't usually get involved in this kind of stuff, but he told me you have people looking for you."

"And I've told your son that I'm not --"

"Save it," FP told her. "I've seen the picture. Not that I'd need to. You look just like her."

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Well, for starters, I don't want you to be living _here_ ," FP said with a dry laugh. "We met your neighbor, he seemed charming."

"Did he touch you?" Jughead asked. "You've got some uh, blood, on your shirt."

"That's none of your concern," Betty said as primly as she could manage.

"We can take care of him for you," FP told her in a tone that made her think he really could and would, if she said the word.

"I can look after myself," Betty shot back, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not interested, okay? In any of it. I don't want your help. I don't want to meet anyone. I just want to be left alone. Do you get it?"

"Loud and clear," FP said. "See, the only thing is, Alice would kill me if she knew I knew you were living here and just left you."

"Then rest in peace," Betty shot back solemnly, crossing herself. She was surprised to hear a small huff of laughter from Jughead. She pushed forward, trying to bluff, "I've already met my birth family. So, I really don't know --" 

"Again, you can save it," FP said. "I knew your mom when she was your age. If you had any idea... I mean, you wouldn't even bother trying to lie."

Betty didn't respond, shifting on her feet. Maybe she had made the wrong call. Somehow, FP was beginning to seem more insistent than his son. Maybe not about meeting her family, but about leaving the Plaza, which was just one step closer to it all falling down around her.

"This is where I live," Betty said instead. "I've paid the rent. I don't care what some woman I've never met thinks about my living arrangement, alright? You can go now."

"Elizabeth, please --" Jughead started, but she cut him off.

"If it worries you that much, I don't plan on staying in Riverdale for much longer. After all, being harrassed by three men in one day is just a bit much for me."

With that, she slammed the door on the pair, who were just opening their mouths to respond. Betty ignored their knocking, which went on for what seemed like forever. Eventually she slipped her headphones in to drown them out, but kept her eyes trained on the door. She didn't think they would attempt to break it down, or anything that rash, but who knew. About an hour later, when she got up to get a glass of water, she heard a voice on the other side of the door, lower to the ground.

"We're not going anywhere," said Jughead loudly.

"We got a trailer," said FP, who sounded like he was still standing up. "Just come stay there. We won't bring your family over. We won't tell them anything, until you're ready."

"What if I'm never ready?" Betty asked, standing in front of the shut door.

"That's _your_ call," FP told her.

"Please, Elizabeth, just open the door," Jughead pleaded.

"Fine," she said, opening it again, just enough to see the two men. "But if you try to pull anything, I'll be out of there so fast it will make your head spin. Got it?"

"Got it," Jughead smiled.

"And please stop calling me Elizabeth. I hate it. I'm Betty." 


End file.
